To Feel Alive
by serenitymeimei
Summary: AU, end of season 4. Ziva and McGee come to rely on one another when tragedy strikes the team. Ziva/McGee


**A/N: **This is for Smackalalala, becuase she's the queen of all things Ziva/McGeek!

**--------------------**

It's happened more times than she could count.

She'd felt pathetic at first. Emotions spilling out of her, like water trickling from a breaking dam. Letting go, allowing herself to feel. Finally.

Ziva would show up on his doorstep long after the city had set itself to slumber and the nightlife had peaked.

He always expected her of course, it had become routine.

Arms would wrap tightly around her body without a second thought- strong and comforting- tears flowing freely, staining yet another of his wrinkled, expensive shirts.

Sleep had become a thing of the past for both of them, after Tony had been kidnapped by La Grenouille and Gibbs had been MIA, deep undercover, using every contact he had available searching for him.

Visits would occur at all hours of the morning. Loneliness, fear, and a void to fill. Cold pizza, re-runs of The Brady Bunch and Bewitched, before sprawling on opposite sides of his huge bed, sometimes not saying anything at all, with only a few hours left until dawn- staring aimlessly at the off-white ceiling above them.

A day had turned into a dozen, quickly followed by a month and then two. Summer had come and gone, and the hope of finding their friend and fellow agent alive became less and less with each passing week.

There was no news. They were powerless; exhausted. Working themselves until nothing was left but husks of what they once were, hardened exteriors, cracking and peeling away the second they left the Navy Yard.

Abby barely spoke anymore- living in the Mallard's home, her Goth appearance gone in favor of plain, almost boring, attire. Just going through the motions.

McGee was the only person that she had left.

She trusted him.

So when he pressed his lips lightly against hers one night, a few un-shed tears finally spilling onto his cheeks, her body had sunk against his, finding solace in his touch. Thankful that he cared enough to try and relieve her pain- _their_ pain.

A few evenings later, the same thing happened. Palms cupping her cheeks, as his mouth moved timidly along hers. Nibbles and chaste kisses, nothing more. A distraction from everything that had happened; something normal that they could cling to in a sea of despair.

Each morning after that she woke with her head on his shoulder, small hand fisted in his t-shirt as the sun shone brightly through the blinds, his fingers raking soothingly through her hair.

They never spoke about it. The didn't need to.

The leaves had already started changing colors; cold breezes, scarves, and warm drinks. They'd almost given up on finding him, and had returned to solving cases that came through the office, resorting to using their days off to continue their search.

Neither of them had expected Gibbs to be sitting at his desk a few days after Halloween, his hair almost long enough to tuck behind his ears, beard scruffy, his clothes unwashed. The second she'd seen him, the look in his eyes, she'd known what had happened.

Tony was dead.

Ziva hadn't even bothered going home that night. McGee had called them a cab, neither trusting themselves to drive. She barely remembered the ride back to his apartment, or being ushered in and out of the dirty, yellow, car, and through thick sheets of heavy rain.

Her mind was still reeling.

Water dripped steadily from her curls onto chilled skin as he opened the front door and pulled her inside, shivers running steadily through her body; teeth chattering, hands shaking.

She should have been surprised when her back hit the wall, warm body pinning her against the cool surface, lips claiming hers as soon as the door had slammed shut. But she'd been expecting it and responded without a second thought, groaning at his desperation and force.

Urgency, shifting and pressing against her soft curves, rough and hard, strong thigh wedged between her own. His brow creased with sorrow and grief, making her fingers itch to sooth it, as both of them tried to forget everything except for here and now.

Hands began groping and caressing her skin, short nails digging into her flesh just enough to feel the pain, but not enough to leave marks. The timid touches of months past were long gone as they began sliding under the hem of her top, making her body tingle and stomach flip. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to sob, or scream in frustration, or wrap her arms around his neck and rub herself shamelessly against him.

She felt helpless. Lost and found at the same time.

Whimpers slipped from her throat, hoarse and low, greedy palms teasing and kneading her breasts until their peaks were pebbled and straining against him.

She shivered, mouth falling open as her body warmed and throbbed, moisture pooling between her legs.

His touch trailed down her ribs, swiping over her clenching stomach and around curve of her ass, lifting her up as legs wrapped their way around his slender hips, making her body swoon with the first thrust of his hardened groin against her own.

Their lips and teeth meshing together, tongue sweeping urgently along hers. Fingers twined themselves through his short hair, and pulled until he was kissing suckling his way along her jaw and down her neck, chests heaving together as oxygen filled their lungs.

Next thing she knew, everything had tilted, and McGee was hovering over her as her back sunk into his familiar bed. Pelvis grinding into hers with renewed fever, hands wandering over her soft skin, head tipping back, breaking their kiss with the force of her moan.

If she'd been able to think properly, she'd have wondered how they'd made it all the way to his bedroom without her noticing. But he had just slid her shirt over her head, unsnapped her bra, and had his warm lips curled around one of her nipples, and she could have cared less.

Sure fingers popped the button on her jeans and soon had them, and her underwear, sliding down her hips and off her legs completely. Chilled air washed over her skin as he settled himself back between her legs, his clothing lost somewhere in the shuffle.

Her back arched, warm skin sliding against her own, teeth nipping down her throat. Slightly calloused hands gripped her thigh and wove through her hair, mouth falling open in a silent groan as finally thrust inside of her.

Quick, long strokes. Slickness and his thumb pressing insistently over her clit.

She could have sworn she'd seen stars circling over her head, he was pounding into her so hard. Heard the headboard hitting the wall over and over, and the rattling of the photograph on his bedside table.

Legs shifted up and around his waist, making him sink deeper into her. A low groan rumbling against her shoulder, his pace increasing more even when she didn't think that it was possible to do so.

Her stomach tightened, so close to release, tension about to snap.

McGee started trembling above her. Hips wavering, swelling inside of her, tears falling on her neck as he pinched her clit and thrust one last time.

A guttural moan slipping from her throat. Fingernails dug into his back, grasping, grounding herself as her inner muscles fluttered and squeezed around him. Wave after wave of hot pleasure, muscles convulse rhythmically, telling both of them that they were alive.

Their bodies slowed, gasping for air. Finally relaxing as he collapsed on top of her, still twitching around him, small sobs wracking through his body.

Her arms wrapped around him, hand stroking up and down his spine, offering him consolation. Letting him know, even as moisture began pooling in her own eyes, that they'd get through this together. Just like they always had.

"You think he suffered, Ziva?" Tim sniffled.

She bit her lip, a lone tear slipping down her cheek.

She wanted to tell him the truth. Say that he was most likely tortured and held captive for all of those months that he'd been gone. Beaten and interrogated until his body couldn't handle it anymore. Took his last breath and closed his eyes for the final time, the face of his captor haunting him even in death.

But she lied…

"No, I don't think he suffered at all."

McGee released a strangled breath. Lips brushing tenderly against the bottom of her jaw before his body went slack.

…And he knew that she had.

**End. **


End file.
